


moments and worlds

by milominderbinder



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 4x11 Reaction Fic, Bipolar Disorder, College AU, Drabble Collection, Drabbles, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Riding, Sign Language AU, and more - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 09:28:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 17
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1423288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milominderbinder/pseuds/milominderbinder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a collection of drabbles I wrote from prompts on tumblr. Some AU, some canon, some 'missing moments', some future fics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the hazards of dorm living

**Author's Note:**

> a collection of drabbles from prompts on tumblr.
> 
> come send me more prompts: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Anonymous asked:_ Ian/Mickey. Same personalities (more or less). Same family situations. Except they end up being put together as roommates in college.

Their shitty dorm room at their shitty community college has a frayed electrical wire sticking out of the ceiling. Mickey stares up at it, lying on his bed, stares straight up and doesn’t look left, doesn’t look left, doesn’t look left at where Ian is stood in just his underwear, rooting around in a drawer looking for a marginally fresh t-shirt and giving off a fucking  _perfect_ view of his ass which Mickey could see if he looked left - but he’s not looking left.

Except he is, of course he fucking is, because it’s been three months of rooming with Ian Gallagher and at this stage Mickey’s basically nothing more than a ball of confusing mushy feelings and sexual frustration, which, hey, he’s only human, and that’s fine - until Ian fucking turns around, sees him looking, breaks into the stupidest fucking smug grin which turns Mickey’s stomach in a horribly nice way.

"Nice boner," says Ian with a laugh, and Mickey’s barely halfway into telling him to  _fuck off_ when he’s shut up by Ian’s mouth crashing into his, Ian’s hands dragging him up off the bed, and Mickey’s imploding and exploding all at the same time and it’s kind of fucking perfect.

Only one of the shitty single beds in their shitty dorm room ever gets used, after that night.


	2. runaways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Anonymous asked: _ian/mickey + deciding to run away together somewhere like new orleans or something__
> 
> __Come send me more prompts:[mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com)._ _

Contrary to every prediction anyone ever would have had on the matter, it’s Mickey who brings it up first.

It’s a summer’s afternoon and they’ve just fucked, are lying panting and laughing, pressed up against each other on Ian’s bed, and Ian’s brazen enough to reach over and slowly twine their fingers together, and Mickey doesn’t pull away, just looks down at their joined hands with a fucking constipated expression, the kind he always gets when something serious comes up.

"We should move," he says, and Ian thinks he means, like, from the bed, starts to suggest a shower or getting something to eat, but Mickey continues, "I dunno where, I always kinda liked the sound of New Orleans but it could be fucking anywhere, man, just - we should get out of Chicago. Together."

Ian’s so fucking shocked and so fucking happy, he can hardly process it, can do nothing more than nod dumbly and then throw himself on top of Mickey, draw him into a kiss that he never wants to end.


	3. the fuck are you trying to say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _multifandomserbiangirl asked:_ Ian and Mickey don't speak the same language. (I know it's weird but I hope you'll have fun writing this !)
> 
> come send me more prompts: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com)

Ian Gallagher is seriously fucking hot, but that doesn’t stop the motion he’s making with his hands look crazy as shit.

"The fuck are you trying to say?" Mickey asks, losing patience by the second, but Ian just snaps something back in the fucking gibberish ass language that has them in this mess in the first place.  Mickey Milkovich doesn’t do fucking  _sign language,_  how the fuck is he supposed to know what Ian’s trying to tell him based on some weird hand-twisting and wild gesturing.

Apparently Ian’s losing patience too, because he suddenly quits his crazy fucking charades motions and throws his hands up in the air, huffs out a put-upon sigh that Mickey’s about to thump him for, and then - well, and then he fucking grabs Mickey’s  _dick._

Apparently Ian had been trying to mime the phrase  _do you want to have a shitload of gay sex with me,_  but Mickey decides to let actions speak louder than words when it comes to his response.

(Which, as it happens, is a resounding  _yes._ )


	4. the pizza contention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Anonymous asked:_ Ian and mickey fighting over something dumb like what to eat for dinner or watch on tv.
> 
> come send me more prompts: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com)!

"Pineapple on pizza, are you out of your  _fucking_  mind?”

"Maybe if you weren’t throwing a tantrum like a three year old and you’d actually  _try_  it, you’d fucking like it, asshole -“ _  
_

"If I ever eat pineapple on pizza take me out back and shoot me because I’ve clearly lost my _fucking_ nut -“

"If you keep acting like a little fucking bitch I’m gonna take you out back and shoot you right  _now_ you -“

That’s when Ian throws a slice of pizza onto Mickey’s face, and bursts out laughing as the sauce drips down his frozen expression of horror.


	5. when the fight is done

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Anonymous asked:_ Ian/Mickey post 4x11 back at the Gallagher house after everyone is asleep, washing the blood off of each other's faces (sweet and sappy with kisses please)
> 
> come send me more prompts: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com)!

The Gallagher house is dark and quiet when they finally make it back there.  There’s a shitload of unfamiliar kids passed out in sleeping bags in the living room, but that’s just another day in this place and Ian walks straight past them.  So Mickey follows, up the stairs, into the bathroom, doesn’t think about anyone else but him and Ian in that moment. 

They don’t close the door behind them. Don’t really need to, not anymore, it’s not like they’re gonna fuck and Mickey doesn’t honestly have a thing to lose anymore - the people he was most afraid of finding out have now found out, and he’s still standing here, so as far as he’s concerned the rest of the world can think what the fuck it wants.  He unbuttons Ian’s shirt for him slowly, pushes it off his shoulders, strips his own off too and then wets a towel to wipe the blood off Ian’s face, gentle, rubbing carefully over his cuts, his split lip.  Ian’s hands are gentle when he cleans Mickey off too, but they’re shaking, and the house is dark and quiet and Ian’s hands are shaking and Mickey’s whole body hurts, and he kisses Ian because he can’t stand  _not_ kissing him any longer, sat on the rim of the bathtub in the Gallagher house at fuck knows O’clock in the morning, he kisses Ian gently and tastes the blood on his lips but it’s not bitter, it doesn’t sting.


	6. the long and epic tale of mickey's new cologne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Anonymous asked:_ Prompt please! Ian noticing mickeys new cologne and he cant get enough of the smell.
> 
> come send me more prompts: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com)!

When Ian comes downstairs in the morning, the first thing he sees is Mickey stood at the counter, making coffee; the chance is too good to pass over, and Ian sneaks over in his socked feet, comes up behind Mickey, sinks his teeth gently into the crook Mickey’s neck.

"Fuck off," Mickey mumbles, not even reacting - he obviously knows who it is, so Ian laughs a little, goes to pull away - but then he notices an  _amazing_ fucking smell and buries his face deeper into Mickey’s neck.

"The fuck is that?" he mumbles into Mickey’s soft skin, not wanting to break away for even a second, breathing in deep, feeling almost fucking  _drunk_ off it; Ian always loves the way Mickey smells, like cigarette ash and weed and minty shower gel, has always thought it was fucking delicious and wanted to bury himself in it, but this is something else altogether, a new, spicy fresh smell on top of all of that.

"Cologne, fuck off," says Mickey, and it’s only because Ian’s so close that he can see the blush that paints Mickey’s skin.

"I like it," Ian says, still not taking his lips away from Mick’s shoulder, "let’s make out."


	7. attempts at being sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _hard-core-pansies asked:_ mickey trying to be sweet
> 
> send me more prompts: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com)!

The present is badly wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper, tossed with a  _thud_ on top of Ian while he’s still sleeping.  It wakes Ian up, sends him into panic mode for a moment, sitting straight up before he’s even opened his eyes, blinking with confusion when he realises what's woken him.  He's even more confused when he spots Mickey stood awkwardly at the edge of the bed, wearing a pair of Ian’s sweatpants and odd socks and a constipated expression.

"I, uh, made coffee," Mickey says, shifts from foot to foot, hands a bleary and confused Ian the chipped yellow mug, then a poptart still warm from the toaster.  Ian accepts both, takes a bite of the poptart, a sip of the coffee - it’s made just how he likes it, lots of milk and no sugar - and tries not to think about how fucking weird Mickey’s acting.  He's just standing there, watching Ian.  He's made fucking _breakfast._

Then, suddenly, Ian remembers the object which had woken him up in the first place.  It's still lying on his legs; he rips the newspaper off with one hand while he slurps down his coffee, while Mickey watches with his same dumb expression.

The present is a sweater, soft and thick and green with the tags still on, and it’s unremarkable in and of itself but fucking  _insane_ when Ian thinks about who it’s coming from.  Ian runs a hand over the wool, jaw slack.

"Happy fuckin’ birthday," Mickey mumbles, but his uncomfortable expression finally soothes out to a smile when Ian laughs and draws him down for a kiss.


	8. i love you, douchbag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _anonymous asked:_ could you do ian x mickey + finally saying "i love you" to each other? not to carl or svetlana, to each other, and straight up saying it, not ambiguous or implied
> 
> come send me more prompts: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com)!

It starts with Ian teasing him, because Ian's a little shit and at any given moment of any day, there's an eighty percent change Ian is teasing him, usually about the dumbest thing imaginable, loudly and in public.  By now, Mickey is used to it, just rolls his eyes and snorts and teases Ian back - and, occasionally, tells him to fuck off, which he does on this occasion, as he looks at Ian's bright playful eyes and the shit-eating grin on his face.

"Fuck off," Mickey says, simple as that, and then, without even really thinking about it, because it's  _true_ and he feels it all the time these days and he hasn't been sure, really, because he hasn't ever  _felt_ like this before, but yeah, there's only one thing this can be and he's  _tired_ of not saying it, "I love you, asshole."

Ian, to his credit, doesn't look all that surprised, just laughs a little and leans over and kisses Mick, sloppy and wet, grabs his ass.

"I love you too, douchebag," Ian says, and then goes back to teasing Mickey.


	9. waking up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _loveonawirex3 asked:_ Ian finally coming out of his depression a little after however much time you like and how Mickey reacts to it :)
> 
> send me more prompts: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com)!

Mickey starts his day standing under the dribble of lukewarm water that passes for a shower in his house, and then pulls his jeans back on over his damp legs, ignoring the way they stick to him uncomfortably, the way his wet hair is dripping down his back.  It’s been ten days since Ian got out of bed, and in some contexts that wouldn’t seem like a lot of time at all but this way it seems like an eternity; long enough, at least, to slip into a routine, so Mickey doesn’t even try and wake Ian up in the mornings anymore, just gets up and does his own thing and worries, worries, worries.

So when he gets back to his room, rubbing his damp hair and ignoring the worry in his stomach that never goes away anymore, his jaw nearly crashes straight through the floor when he sees Ian sat up in the bed, wearing a clean t-shirt, sipping at the glass of water Mickey’s futilely been trying to push at him for days.  He looks exhausted and too pale, and when he spots Mickey in the doorway he lets out a sad excuse of a half-smile, but it’s a fucking  _start._ Mickey freezes for a second too long but as soon as he can control his limbs again he scrambles back onto the bed, next to Ian, runs a hand over his shoulder, kisses it through his t-shirt, breathes in deep the warm, calm, cleansing feeling that he only ever gets from knowing Ian Gallagher is okay.


	10. the proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _thedicewilson asked:_ Ian and Mickey are at a nice resturaunt and Ian proposes
> 
> send me more prompts: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com)!

The restaurant’s not exactly  _nice_ , but it’s nice for  _them,_ so Mickey’s suspicious as soon as Ian steers him in there.  Usually he doesn’t make a big deal when Ian drags him out to eat, since he’s yet to find a food he doesn’t like, but then usually they end up at McDonalds or the Chinese takeout place on the next block from their apartment; usually, they don’t go the kind of place where they serve beer in a glass and the waiters actually come to your table and get your order.

So, Mickey’s suspicious, but actually not suspicious, in a way.  It’s been two months since he found the ring hidden in Ian’s junk drawer, a thin, scratched gold band stuffed between a roll of condoms and a Zippo lighter.  He knows he probably should have confronted Ian about it, then, but it was too much fun knowing and watching Ian trying to be subtle, dropping hints left and right, acting shifty as fuck.

Sure enough, as soon as they finish their pizza at this nice-for-them-but-still-kinda-shitty restaurant, Ian pulls the ring out of his pocket, slides it across the table.

“Do you wanna get married?” Ian asks, simple as that, and he looks nervous as  _fuck,_ clenching and unclenching his hands over and over again, sweat beading at his temples, and it’s so  _fucking_ adorable Mickey could punch something.

“What, you ain’t gonna get down on one knee?” Mickey asks, laughing, and then lets Ian stew in his non-answer for a few long seconds because seriously, two  _fucking_ months of working up the nerve for this? And then, when Ian actually starts to look like he might have a panic attack – “Yeah, man, sounds good.”

He tries to play it casual, but if the look on Ian’s face as he lunges over the table to kiss him is any indication, he fails miserably.


	11. fucking fuck me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _anonymous asked:_ Ian trying to get intimate with Mickey after his first depressive phase, where Mickey is super tentative and worried
> 
> send me more drabble prompts: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com)!

“I’m not gonna  _break,”_ Ian huffs out, annoyed, but Mickey rolls his eyes, shifts a little on top of Ian; usually Ian loves when Mickey rides him, but apparently tonight, he doesn’t appreciate Mickey being able to call all the shots, because the shots Mickey’s calling involve going  _slow_.

“I know  _that,”_ Mickey replies, and then, batting Ian’s hands away when they try and reach for his dick, “Just wanna take it slow, y’know, make sure you’re okay – make sure you’re not getting too worn out, or whatever.”

Mickey doesn’t really think anyone can blame him for that.  Having finally got Ian back on his meds after a full week of the worst depressive episode Mickey’s ever seen him in, the  _last_ thing Mickey wants to do is any single thing that might send him over the edge again.  As far as Mickey’s concerned, Ian’s made of fucking  _glass,_ the super special expensive kind that he can in no way afford to break.

“You want me to be okay?” Ian asks, grabbing Mickey’s hips suddenly and thrusting up into him, dragging a moan out of Mickey before he can stop himself, “Fucking  _fuck_ me.”


	12. the gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for a prompt about mickey giving ian a gift
> 
> send me more prompts on tumblr: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com).

"Uh," is the first thing Mickey says when he walks into the room.  Ian looks up from the magazine he’d been perusing, raises an eyebrow.

"Something up?" he asks, because Mickey is shifting his weight from foot to foot and has his hands behind his back and is actually still hovering in the doorway of their room, all of which are parts of a puzzle which add up to something  _shady as fuck._

 _“_ Nah,” says Mickey, and then, “Yeah.  I mean.  Uh.”

Ian shifts from where he’s been lying on the bed, and just stares at Mickey, for a few long seconds.

"It’s no big deal," Mickey says, eventually.  "It’s just, like, I was walking back from the bar and I saw this and I thought of you, it’s dumb I know, it was only like a dollar, I can give it to Amy and Gemma or something, it’s -" 

Ian doesn’t even hear the rest of Mickey’s sentence, his face splitting slowly into a grin as he cottons onto what’s happening.  Mickey’s bought him a  _present._

"What is it?" Ian asks, excited, bouncing up from the bed and walking quickly towards Mickey.  Mickey’s blushing more than Ian’s ever seen him blush before; it’s kind of adorable, and he struggles to stay on the task of finding out what his gift is, when all he really wants to do is kiss that blush right off Mickey’s face.

Then Mickey pulls his hands out from behind his back.  And in them is a little stuffed animal.  A little stuffed  _kitten,_ a ginger kitten, which has a camo-print collar.

Ian laughs before he can help himself, but then kisses Mickey so hard it hurts.


	13. doogie howser MD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for a prompt about mickey admitting something to ian
> 
> send me more prompts on tumblr: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com).

"Neil Patrick Harris."

Ian rolls over onto his side, passes the joint back to Mickey, laughs.

“ _Really?”_ he asks.  ”As in Doogie  _Howser_?”

Mickey smacks him on the arm, but there’s none of his usual force behind it, and afterwards he leaves his hand draped across Ian’s bicep.

"Hey, man, you asked.  First crush.  If you can be gay as shit for Justin Timberlike, I can like fuckin’ Doogie Howser."

Ian laughs, loud, closing his eyes for a second just to try and burn the image of Mickey’s playful blush into his mind forever.

"Did you even watch that show? It’s from, like, the eighties."

Mickey shrugs, runs his hand up and down Ian’s arm, just a little.

"We never had cable," he says.  "Just used to watch whatever shit Mom had on VHS."

Ian figures that’s a good enough reason.  He steals the joint back off Mickey, smiles, wonders what else he can get Mickey to admit.


	14. line up a shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for a prompt about ian and mickey doing shots together
> 
> send me more prompts on tumblr: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com).

"Line up a couple of shots."

Kev shoots Mickey a sidelong glance, but does as he says anyway.

"You liberate another boatload of whores, or what?" he asks, sliding the two shot glasses across the bar to Mickey.  Mickey just rolls his eyes, takes the two glasses, and carries them back over to the table right in the furthest corner of the Alibi.

"Here ya go," he says to Ian, can’t help the grin that creeps onto his face when he sits down opposite him - opposite his  _boyfriend,_ in fuckin’  _public,_ and doesn’t even have to hide it.  It’s the first time they’ve been at the bar together since Mickey came out.  He doesn’t have a fucking clue where the night will lead them, but he thinks it might be somewhere good.  ”Drink up.”

Ian shoots him a wicked grin, and downs his shot.  


	15. chicken soup for the stuffed nose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for a prompt about ian taking care of mickey
> 
> send me more prompts on tumblr: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com).

"How do you feel?"

"Fuck off."

Ian rolls his eyes.  Mickey’s voice is barely even audible, muffled by the two duvets he’s buried underneath combined with his impossibly stuffed up sinuses.  Ian throws himself stomach-first down onto the bed, next to the Mickey shaped lump under the covers, and tries to pull them back enough to catch a glimpse of Mickey’s face.

"I got cough syrup at the store, and some ginger tea which is s’posed to help your stomach, and some chicken soup, too."

Nothing but a vague  _humf_ comes from the duvet cocoon.  Ian has just about managed to unearth Mickey’s forehead, but his boyfriend isn’t exactly making it easy.

"Mick?  D’you want some chicken soup?"

A long pause, and Ian has shoved the blankets far down enough to see Mickey’s eyes, which are half shut and watering.

"Fine," huffs Mickey eventually, like it’s some big fucking sacrifice on his part to eat soup.  Ian can’t help his grin, and he presses a kiss to Mickey’s sweaty forehead for a second before rolling back off the bed to heat up Mickey’s soup.

If he laces it with ginger and baby aspirin - well.  Mickey’s sinuses are too stuffed up to taste the difference.


	16. how i feel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for a prompt about mickey telling ian how he feels about him
> 
> send me more prompts on tumblr: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com).

"Look, it’s - shit.  It’s hard for me to say this stuff, a’ight?  You know that, though.  But look, whatever, I’ll give it a shot."

Mickey takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, grips Ian’s knee so tight just to try and anchor himself.

"I never even thought I wanted all the shit we have, until you turned up, and made me fucking want it.  Kissing and cuddling and being  _out,_ all that sappy shit - I couldn’t understand why anyone would ever do it.  But with you… man, you just make me so  _different,_ but I think it’s a good kinda different, like, you make me  _better_ or some shit.  And I - I guess I love you, or whatever, because I don’t even think I’ve known what love fuckin’  _is_ until I met you, and I’d do fucking  _anything_ for you, and I - I just want you to be okay, no matter what it takes, and I -“

Mickey’s voice breaks, and he pauses, takes another breath.  He doesn’t even know where he’s going with this, doesn’t know what to say next, only that he  _has_ to keep going, until Ian fucking  _understands._


	17. zip me up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for a prompt about mickey dressing ian... which i took in a sad direction :P
> 
> send me more prompts on tumblr: [mickeymilk](http://mickeymilk.tumblr.com).

"Ian?" Mickey asks.  He holds his breath as he waits for Ian’s response.

"What?" comes a faint voice from under the covers.  It shouldn’t be a victory, that single word and how tired it sounds, but it somehow  _is_ because it’s the first time Ian’s actually  _engaged_ with something for days and Mickey’s so, so tired of being worried.

"You’ve got that doctors appointment," Mickey says, edging a little closer to the bed but not reaching out and touching Ian; doesn’t want to push his luck.  "Remember, I told you about it? We have to leave in a minute, man."

There’s mostly silence for a moment, and Mickey holds his breath again.

"Okay," says Ian.  His voice is still faint and fragile, and he makes no attempt to move, but he still says it,  _okay,_ and Mickey could cry with happiness.

Slowly, Mickey pulls the duvet off Ian.  Ian lets him, but doesn’t do anything else.  Then, he lets Mickey pull him up to a sitting position too, just sits there, staring at Mickey, his lips wavering, as Mickey stares back at him.

It’s obvious that Ian’s not gonna do any of this himself, but at this stage, Mickey is grateful for whatever small amount of progress he can find, and this is  _all_ progress.  So he grabs a pair of Ian’s sweatpants off the floor and eases Ian’s feet into them, one leg at a time, pulls them up his legs.  Ian even stands up, resting heavy with his hands against Mickey’s shoulders but actually fucking  _stood,_ so Mickey can pull the pants over his ass.  Next Mickey reaches for a t-shirt, the first one he sees on the floor, and pulls it down over Ian’s head, manages to push Ian’s arms into the right holes.  He doesn’t think Ian will manage with much more, but it’s still winter and it’s fucking freezing outside, so he grabs Ian’s big winter coat and manages to ease his arms into that, too, then zips it up right up to Ian’s chin.  When he’s done, Ian sits back down on the edge of the bed, and pulls on his sneakers all by himself.  Slowly and numbly and leaving the laces untied, but by  _himself,_ and Mickey is so happy and sad and confused all at once, he really does think he’s about to cry.

"Come on," he says instead, his voice gentle, and wraps an arm around Ian to pull him up.


End file.
